Chalk

by Paul Cornell

  Angie beamed all over her face. ‘The Number One of right now!’ she said. ‘Interesting!’ She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her skirt and headed for the door.

  I stood there for a moment, impressed beyond measure. She had looked and sounded, in that moment, exactly like Doctor Who.

  * * *

  We all walked back to the cars together. Just before she got into her family’s expensive car, Angie looked to me again. ‘I could lend you some records if you want.’

  Waggoner stepped between us, suddenly furious.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, wanting to get him into our car. ‘Fine.’ And then, ‘Thank you very much.’

  * * *

  The very next day, in the afternoon, Mum found a package outside the door. Nobody had rung the doorbell. The package was bound up in three colours of tape: red, gold and green. I took it into my room and closed the door. There was a note attached: Here are some records you should listen to. There was Angie’s signature, which was so big it went right off the page. There was another sheet of paper in the envelope, a Photostatted document. It read:

  Number Ones of 1982–1983

  ‘Do You Really Want to Hurt Me’ by Culture Club. I asked the mirror if the boy and I would always be together, and if he’d grow up a bit to let that happen, and it turns out the answer to that is another question, one I don’t understand, by a band he wouldn’t like. I avoided him completely on Sunday night because I didn’t know what all that meant, and because of the usual family stuff. I danced to the track as usual, to thank the mirror, but when I got home that night, I found the mirror was buckled and cracked! Something huge is happening.

  ‘I Don’t Want To Dance’ by Eddy Grant. This is terrible! I asked the cracked mirror if we were going to be found out after Waggoner saw us, and now it tells me it doesn’t want to dance, it doesn’t want to have anything to do with me! I won’t be able to ask it any more questions! I’ll only be able to imagine what I might have asked, and then hear the Number One and hope that would have been the answer to my question. There was an accident on the football pitch, and someone’s painted a horse there and I feel weird even to think about it, it feels impossible. I tried to talk to Waggoner, but he didn’t answer. For some reason, I don’t think he’ll give us away. When he saw us in the clearing, I said a few good lyrics and got rid of him, but before that it looked like he spazzed out. There’s something weird about him now. Something new.

  ‘Beat Surrender’ by The Jam. The lyrics go, ‘As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end’. What would I have asked the mirror to get this track as an answer? I got the feeling something big was about to happen, so I took care to be everywhere and do everything, so I’d see it. Sure enough, there was an accident in the swimming pool. One of the boy’s friends has been badly hurt. He must be feeling so bad about it. I felt sick after. The whole school’s feeling weird now.

  ‘Save Your Love’ by Renée and Renato. Well, that’s pretty obvious. There’s clearly a threat to the boy, and I have to do something about it. Damn Terry Wogan of Radio 2! He got this to Number One! The only good thing is it kept The Shakin’ Stevens EP off the top, because how hard would that be to decipher? This so-called song is ancient, but maybe that’s saying the threat is from something ancient. I wish I could discount it, but I’m too scared to. So I will dance to it. In thanks, even though that bloody mirror doesn’t deserve it. Sorry. Waggoner has suddenly become one of the boy’s friends. That doesn’t feel right, that’s so weird, but everyone else seems to think it’s fine.

  ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’ by Phil Collins. It’s been two weeks since Vince Lang died, or was killed, rather. The boy’s been very brave. I think I would have asked the mirror if this was going to have an effect on our relationship. And this single is an answer which would have made me feel better. I asked Waggoner what music he liked, but he just said the usual, nothing interesting. Something big has definitely happened to him, something weird, like with the school. If I knew what he really thought about pop music, I might be able to work out what’s going on.

  ‘Down Under’ by Men at Work. Either I’ve started to be very clumsy, or what happened to my mirror has started to happen to the school. It’s very worrying. I can guess what the next Number One will be. I’ll make use of that to help Elaine with that fucking Waggoner, who is being the biggest arsehole. What question would I have asked the mirror to get this answer? I dread to think! No, it feels like a big, empty desert. Those lines about dying and temptation.

  ‘Too Shy’ by Kajagoogoo. Ha, ha! Got it right about the next Number One! I’ve used it to help poor Elaine. I wonder if Waggoner will realise what I’ve done to him?

  ‘Billie Jean’ by Michael Jackson. Louise is going out with one of the boy’s friends, so that’s good. ‘Not my lover’ worries me. The whole song, the performance, people vanishing in the video, Michael Jackson looking out from under his hat, it all worries me.

  ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ by Bonnie Tyler. What?! This one is Noel Edmonds’ fault! Am I supposed to be paying attention to what the top of the charts would be like if these DJs didn’t keep making records Number Ones that aren’t supposed to be? How do I do that? The video is horrifying. I think this says something huge is going to happen to the school. The changes are going to get worse. Who’s the eclipse going to happen to? I might have asked, ‘Will Louise and Stewart work out?’

  ‘Is There Something I Should Know?’ by Duran Duran. About a week ago, Stewart Selway killed himself. Another one of the boy’s friends. He must be really going through it, though he won’t say anything. But Louise is changed, bent out of shape by what’s happened. If I’d asked the mirror a question, it could have been, ‘What question should I be asking?’ I’m missing something huge.

  ‘Let’s Dance’ by David Bowie. Oh! Thank you! Finally! Phew! I can ask questions again. Although with the mirror broken, I don’t know how good the answers will be. I danced to this so much, straight away, up and down my room. Louise is being so weird. The school is getting weirder all the time. Something happened in human reproduction. Waggoner has stopped being the boy’s friend, so that’s something that’s jerked back to being normal, at least. Elaine says she think he might have finally shut up, so I’ve, errrrr, let him off. This Number One tells me there’s hope in the middle of this horror movie. I know exactly what question I’m going to ask before the next Number One comes along.

  I stared at the piece of paper. The note felt dangerous, for all sorts of reasons. The boy she talked about must be Drake. This could actually be evidence, in that it said Louise and Selway had been going out.

  But in the middle there was the most incredible thing of all. What did Angie think she’d done to me? How had she let me off? Why had she sent me this note and told me that without telling me what all that was about?

  Waggoner tried to look at the piece of paper. I crumpled it and put it in my pocket. ‘Does she say anything about me?’ he asked. I said she hadn’t. I had to use a kitchen knife to open the package. Out onto my bed fell what turned out to be ten singles. They were:

  ‘Goody Two Shoes’ by Adam Ant.

  ‘Cat People’ by David Bowie, this one a 12”.

  ‘Hungry Like the Wolf’ by Duran Duran.

  ‘Mirror Man’ by the Human League.

  ‘Human Nature’ by Michael Jackson.

  ‘Party Fears Two’ by the Associates.

  ‘Suspended in Gaffa’ by Kate Bush.

  ‘Don’t Talk to Me About Love’ by Altered Images.

  ‘Senses Working Overtime’ by XTC.

  ‘Back on the Chain Gang’ by the Pretenders.

  Waggoner looked at them with increasing incredulity, shaking his head and laughing. I laid them out on my bed, trying to read a message from them. This was urgent now. Angie had said in the note she knew what question she was going to ask next. Was it going to be about me? What might be the next Number One, and how might it apply to me? I went into the kitchen, grabbed the paper and
took a look at the Top Forty. ‘Beat It’ by Michael Jackson? ‘Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)’ by Eurythmics? ‘Church of the Poisoned Mind’ by Culture Club?

  I went back to look at the singles again. Some of these were by acts Drake’s lot hated, like Modern Romance, Michael Jackson and Duran Duran. Some of them they’d like, like XTC and Adam Ant. Was this a test? Was Angie asking if I was gay? Playing the records, I found no clues. I hid them under my bed, the note under my pillow.

  * * *

  In the middle of the night, I woke, suddenly thinking the window was open again. I leapt out of bed, about to close my eyes and lunge for the curtains.

  Something sharp went into my foot.

  I fell to the ground. The curtains were closed. I held my bellow of pain inside. I grabbed for my foot. I pulled the sharp object out. I looked. I was getting good at looking. There wasn’t much blood. I was holding a jagged bit of the XTC record. The sharp point had been part of the label at the centre. Now it had a small lump of my blood and gristle on it, across the name of the band.

  I looked around the room. The floor was covered with bits of broken record and scraps of their sleeves, a carpet of spikes and confetti. I tried to stand up, fell, crushing more record shards under me. They spiked my hip and leg, and my hand where I put it down to steady myself.

  In the corner stood Waggoner. He had in his hands the Bowie record, whole. Now he was sure I was watching, he broke it over his knee and let the pieces drop. He went over to my bed, lifted up the pillow, found the list of Number Ones, and, while I lay there, he read it.

  Twenty-three

  In the early hours, I crawled about, picking pieces of record and sleeve out of the carpet, and then out of my pajamas and skin, and putting them in a carrier bag. It took a long time, with no thought, just something that had to be done. The dust from the carpet made my eyes stream, but I finished it, running my hands along the surface as dawn came up, finding the last particles.

  Waggoner watched me do it. When I’d finished, he screwed up the list of Number Ones and ate it.

  * * *

  When it was light, I went on one of my long walks. I left the carrier bag in the dustbin. I waited until we had turned the corner around the road.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She has a system of her own. It’s about stupid shit. She’s trying to draw you into it.’

  ‘How am I going to replace those records? They cost–’

  ‘It was all right when there wasn’t a girl about, wasn’t it? You were into it then. Listen. There’s her version of stuff and ours. Our version says that everything means something. That’s what’s real and right and just, what’s important. Her version is just about what things look and sound like, just distractions from the big stuff. You were maimed by them, don’t you remember? She’s going out with the man who cut you! Don’t you want them to answer for it? Don’t you want to punish her too?’

  I shook my head violently. ‘We could have just given the records back!’

  ‘Then she wouldn’t hate you. She can’t seduce you if she hates you.’

  ‘Seduce–?’ I really doubted that was what she was trying to do.

  ‘What’s the point of getting to know what she thinks about anything? You can’t have her. You can’t have any woman now.’

  ‘Why are you saying that?’

  ‘Oh, you’re thinking I’m part of you, a figment of your imagination, the naughty angel out of Jimmy Jinks and What He Thinks–’

  “Are you even a real person?” I reached out and tried to touch his face, but he backed away.

  “Listen, you like justice and law and cause and effect, reasons. That’s why we’re here. You called out to us. You’re not like her. You’re like us.”

  “Stop . . .” I wanted to say he was bullying me, but I couldn’t say the word. “You’re . . . like Drake!” I stumbled away from him across the rough grass.

  He followed. I put a hand to my temple. “I’m not in there!” he shouted, so loud it made me duck and look around like lightning was about to strike me. He was there again at my shoulder. “Don’t get distracted. You have the bursary to aim for. You have the mock exams coming up. Don’t go looking for other things. Or you’ll lose it. I will do what I have to for your revenge. Now, because she’s clearly dangerous, I’ve added Angie to my list.”

  Shit. Shit. What was I going to do?

  I had to return her records to her, get her out of my life, show Waggoner she wasn’t a threat. I couldn’t think of any excuse that would work for having destroyed all of the records. I got fifty pence pocket money a week. I hadn’t any savings that I could get at, only some premium bonds and a Post Office savings stamps account that I could access when I was twenty-one. Odd jobs were something I’d read about kids doing.

  I didn’t revise at all that day. In the end I wrote a story. This one.

  The Chalice of the Queen

  By Andrew Waggoner

  Starring:

  Anthony Drake as Blake.

  Angie Boden as Northstar.

  Mark Ford as the Teacher of the Arthuria.

  And Andrew Waggoner as Himself.

  It was a hot day. My boss called me into his office and told me gruffly I had to keep the Chalice of the Queen, that was part of the Crown Jewels safe. He had information that someone in particular wanted to steal it. A very special someone. But he could not tell me who, for security reasons.

  ‘You don’t trust me!’ I bellowed.

  ‘I don’t trust you, but I do trust you to get the job done!’ He bellowed back. But he offered to pay me for the job. All the money I needed.

  I grinned grimly. The only way I could keep the Chalice of the Queen safe was by stealing it. So steal it I would. And I would do it that very evening.

  The Chalice was kept in a safe at Fasley Grange School. This was run by a teacher who was part of the secret Royal Bodyguard, the Arthuria, who were charged with keeping safe that which could only be kept safe. Or the realm itself would be in peril.

  I arranged on some pretext to go and see him, during a school day. The safe was kept, intriguingly, in the office of the bursar in that old building. It had only one guard. But she was very dangerous. She was an expert in the ancient French martial art of panache. She wore a big skirt to allow her lithe limbs freedom of movement. And a cruel smile marked her features. Her name was Northstar, at least, that was the only name I heard. The teacher called her that when he introduced us. I bowed deeply in the traditional Oriental way. She bobbed a bob.

  I took dinner with the teacher that lunchtime, because he said he had to be at an important meeting in the evening. He was very thin, and smiled a sinister smile. Which was strange because he was good. I tried every trick I had to send Northstar away from the safe. I told her there was a fire that needed her attention. But nothing worked. On some pretext, I excused myself. I went to the staff room. There I found a teacher who was more exciting. He was heading a football against the wall. This was Mr. Blake. He had an eye patch. But he was very muscular. On a pretext, I talked with him about Northstar. He sighed and said he loved her. He didn’t like to talk about it. I told him to phone her up. So he did.

  They talked for a while, and I knew this must mean she was on the phone. So I went back to the bursar’s office. The teacher had left on his important meeting, so I went to the safe. I only had seconds to open it. My training came in handy. I put my ear against the tumbler and rolled it in my fingers. When three clicks came up in a row, jackpot! I flung open the door.

  And there was . . . nothing!

  ‘Were you looking for this?’ A quiet voice said from behind me.

  I spun round like a cat spins.

  It was Northstar. She was holding the Chalice. Which she had filled with deep red wine. ‘You are too late,’ she purred in a Soviet accent. ‘You should have known who I really was from my code name. I am here to steal the Chalice. That is what your boss could not tell you.’

  I kept calm. ‘Why have you filled it
with wine?’ I asked.

  ‘Because only wine will activate its special properties. Like with men.’

  I frowned. I didn’t want to demonstrate that I knew exactly what she meant in every detail. ‘What special properties are those?’

  She drank the wine in one long, deep gulp and flicked the last dregs away from her lips with a well practiced claw with red nail polish on it subtly. ‘This!’ she bellowed. She turned the Chalice around so I could see the bottom of it. It glowed like the heat of the sun.

  I moved without thinking. I dived aside. And as I did that someone dived in front of me. It was Blake. He was clutching his chest. ‘My heart!’ he bellowed. And then he died. He had a hole right through the centre of his body, from the beam from the Chalice. Blood flowed everywhere, apart from where it had been too hot, and the wound was cauterised.

  Northstar dropped the Chalice and ran to him. ‘Blake!’ she bellowed.

  That took me by surprise. I didn’t know she could really love him. I ran and got the Chalice, and ran for the door. Gunfire blazed around me just before I got out. But then I was away.

  The Chalice was mine. And now I would find out why ‘they’ had wanted to have it! And that would give me all the cash I needed!

  To Be Continued!

  That night, I waited until my parents were asleep, then went out to the kitchen. I had to find at least twelve pounds. I took one five pound note from Dad’s wallet, which was sitting with his keys on the kitchen table. I took another and two pound notes from Mum’s purse.

  Or perhaps my window opened that night, and in flew the money.

  Twenty-four

  The next morning, I heard a row start, and it continued through the week. Mum said Dad had put it on the horses. Dad said she’d lost it. Dad stayed in every night, and the rows continued, and I stayed in my room, writing my stories. Mum finally made Dad go out. When he got back, everything was quiet.